The Cure
by fearlessgoddess2
Summary: Sam and Dean run into another hunter, Catalina Wynter. She happens to be on the same case they are: a werewolf ravaging women. But things are never simple in the world of the supernatural...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Catalina walked down the dirty side street of New York City as the sun began to set. She loved the city, had missed it, and was glad the job had brought her back. She wished she could enjoy it for the overpopulated, overused mini-world it was, but she had a job to do. The only thing she was good at.

Kill.

Cat had spoken with the victim of the attack under the cover of a police officer, just another day at the office. Chance had put a guy who'd been packing nearby and he'd shot the thing a few times, enough to get it to take off. The girl had been coherent enough to tell her she'd been in an alley near a place on East 25th Street called Vicky's Bar. As Cat walked down the street and caught the neon sign that said VI KY'S B R, she allowed herself a shadow of a smile. She was glad the victim hadn't been too traumatized to remember where she'd been.

That's when Cat felt eyes on her back.

Not changing her posture, not moving to look behind her, she just waited as the presence…no, presences, there were two of them, came up to her. When the hand landed on her shoulder, she grabbed the hand and sent the young man down to his knees. "You shouldn't make a habit of sneaking up on people," she quipped.

"Federal agents," the young man snapped.

Cat narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but let them go. They looked a bit young to be agents, but then again people bought that she was a cop and she was twenty-three. And she could occasionally pass for FBI, with a good badge and a confident attitude. Besides, the NSA was rumored to be recruiting right out of high school these days. "Badges?" she asked with a slow blink.

The young man, pursing his lips, got back up to his feet.

"Sorry we startled you," the other one said earnestly.

"Takes a lot to startle me," Cat replied. "You just didn't alert me before putting a hand on my shoulder. Not a smart thing to do really, at least in this neighborhood." Cat took that into account mentally. They'd wanted to catch her off-guard, gain the advantage. Yea, they could be feds.

The two young men took out their badges and flashed them at her, but she held out her hands to take them and inspect them. They handed them over. Cat took one look at them and smirked. "Special Agent John Bonham and Special Agent Jimmy Page," she said, with mock incredulity. "So you guys play drums and guitar, huh?"

The first one blinked at her. "I'm sorry?"

Cat's face went from entertained to pissed and slightly insulted. "Choosing the names of real people to put on fake badges is never a good idea, genius, at least when you have a Led Zeppelin fan checking them out." She handed the badges back, ready for retribution for whoever the two men really were once they knew she knew they weren't feds. Mostly the two just looked surprised. She stared at the first one. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"I don't believe we've met," he replied.

"You just look familiar. So who the hell are you?" she asked.

"We get a lot of heat from the department about our names," the second one said, "but we need to ask you a few questions."

Interested in gaining some information about them, and since the second one seemed honestly concerned about what he was doing, Cat played along. "Knock yourselves out," she replied.

"Could I get your name?"

"Amy Lee," she replied without hesitation.

He gave her a look before continuing. "You live around here?" he asked.

"No. I just moved from California. I'm staying in a motel for now, but I'll be getting an apartment soon."

He nodded, taking down the info. "You notice any strange activity recently?"

"This is New York City. I saw a guy with a corded telephone hanging from his belly button ring ten minutes ago. What counts as strange to you?" Cat asked.

The second young man, who didn't seem to take note of her attitude, spoke up. "Any behavior that seems extraordinary, something you'd expect from someone who's taking drugs, something unusual."

"Everyone's on drugs around here," Cat told him.

"How about you?" the first asked.

Cat shot him a glare. "Do I strike you as the suicidal type?"

"No, you actually strike me as the smart type," he replied, which took her by surprise. "Which is why you should help us out instead of dodging our questions."

"I'm not dodging anything," Cat said innocently. "Seems to me you're just asking some really dumb questions."

He stared at her for a second before the second man spoke up again, almost interrupting an angry remark from the first. "Look, there's a girl in the hospital who was attacked by a young man who was high on something," he told her, real concern in his voice. "We're just trying to get to the bottom of this."

"Yea, I heard about that," Cat said, shifting her weight. "Article in the newspaper. Poor girl."

"Well that's the fifth poor girl that's been attacked with the same M.O.," the first one said.

Cat narrowed her eyes. She'd done her research. The only way these two could have known that was if they'd known the other girls had had their hearts missing. The only thing about the M.O. that was the same. They weren't assaulted. They weren't stabbed or shot or anything else. Just ravaged with their hearts missing. Maybe suspicion came a little too easy to her, but it was what kept her alive. And she had a feeling that there was more to these two guys than they were telling.

"That's really sad," Cat said, putting a puppy frown on her face. Suddenly, her expression brightened. "Hey, can I see your gun?"

The first one blinked. "My what?"

"Your gun. FBI agents do carry guns, right?" Cat asked casually. "My friend back in California is going to apply to the FBI and would totally freak if she knew that I was interrogated by two FBI agents and I didn't get a look at your gun."

The two young men looked frustrated, almost exasperated with her, but they pulled back their jackets to reveal their holsters. Cat nodded and looked to the second 'agent'. "Very cool. Look, you guys totally ruined my evening; I'm not in the mood for a drink anymore. You have my name. If you need anything else, I'll be around."

At that, she took a step around the first one. He was shorter, so he was the one she went after. Presumably, they didn't expect her to try anything. Men can be cocky, which they can definitely pay dearly for. She had her gun out and against his back, right behind his heart, with her arm tightly around his neck within a split second. She instantly felt him tense, and could imagine the look on his face.

"Okay, pistol, _in _my back," her hostage rasped.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Chapter 2:

"Either of you move an inch, I will send a bullet into his heart," Cat snapped. "Feds carry a Glock .23 or .45 caliber Smith and Wesson. You're carrying a nine millimeter," she said, nodding to the second one, who was staring at her, wide-eyed.

"I have to ask, who are _you _that you would know that from a glimpse in our holsters," Dean pointed out.

"I asked first," Cat said sweetly, but with a jab of the gun that made Dean cringe. "So who are you?"

"Just…take it easy," the second one said, his hands up in a calm-down position. "We're not here to hurt anyone. Just put the gun down and—."

"Bull," Cat snarled. "Who the hell are you guys?"

"I'm Sam, this is Dean. We just—."

"Wait…. What's your last name?" Cat snapped.

Sam blinked at her. "Winchester."

Cat moved her jaw around, thinking for a second. Then she let Dean go. He quickly darted away from her and to his brother, slightly in front of him, and had his gun out and pointed at her, narrowed eyes glaring at her. It was obvious he thought she was dangerous, and Cat didn't try to tell him otherwise.

"We answered, now it's your turn," Dean snapped. "Who the hell are you?"

"You didn't buy Amy Lee?" Cat asked.

Dean smirked. "No," he said.

She let out a shadow of a smile as she put the gun back in her jacket. "Catalina Wynter. You can call me Cat. So, Sam and Dean Winchester. Never had the pleasure."

Sam blinked. "You're a hunter," Sam stated.

"Damn straight. You can put your gun away now. I did," Cat pointed out.

Dean hesitated before replacing the gun slowly into his pocket.

"Huh," Cat murmured, narrowing her eyes.

"What?" Dean asked.

She pointed at him. "You were on the news. Slaughtered that girl in St. Louis. Faked your own death. That's why I knew your face."

Dean looked a little angry. "Well if you're a hunter you'll know that my brother and I don't do that sort of stuff. We stop the things that do. That was a shapeshifter. That was how I faked my death. Silver bullet to his heart, body was left there, cops thought he was me. When they realized I was alive…well it was downhill from there. Now I have a warrant out on my ass, which is a pain, but we deal."

"Sloppy on your part," Cat smirked.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Hey, I do my job and I do it well. Period. Speaking of, we've got this covered, so you can skip on back to California, _Amy Lee_. We got work to do."

Cat looked to Sam. "He always so full of testosterone?" she asked, motioning to Dean with a thumb.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Dean snapped.

"It means that I could handle this too. So what makes you think I'm going to just hand over this job?"

"Look, you threaten my life, accuse me of being a monster, and continue to _piss me off_," Dean said loudly, only six inches away from her by now. "There was another hunter that did that, and he's dead now."

Cat froze and she backed up a step. "What'd you just say?" she whispered. Dean looked away, as if angry at himself for saying what he'd said.

"It wasn't like that," Sam said quickly. "Gordon was a vampire. He—."

"Gordon…Walker?" Cat asked, her eyes widening. "A vamp turned Gordon?"

"Yea, and he took two girls heads off with his bare hands, killed a guy, turned another girl, and tried to kill us several times, so it wasn't really like we had a choice," Sam told her.

"Wow," Cat said, letting out a breath. "Well that's irony for you." Sam nodded slowly. "So you guys were really at ground zero when the Gate opened?" she asked.

Dean nodded once. "You gonna push my buttons on that one too?"

Cat rolled her eyes. "Relax. I'm not Walker. I know you guys did the best you could to stop it."

Dean blinked, surprised. "Well that's a refreshing change of pace."

"You're surprised?" Cat asked.

"Actually…yea. Very," Dean replied.

"We've run into a few other hunters and they all blamed us," Sam told her.

"That's cause people can be morons," Cat said. "Answer me this. If Harvelle and Singer back your story up, and the only other ones at the scene were Azazel and Jake what's-his-face, and Azazel and Jake kicked the bucket, why was the gate closed after only a few hundred demons?"

The two brothers just stared at her for a few moments.

"Exactly. So you didn't do it on purpose. You tried to stop it. Did a pretty damn good job too, since there were only four of you there. So it seems a bit hypocritical of other hunters to blame you when they weren't even there to help."

There was some more silence. "Uh, thanks," Sam said quietly. "Appreciate that."

"Look, I…I usually work alone. It's not often I run into other hunters. Maybe I was a little…aggressive."

Dean glared at her. "You think?" he asked.

Cat rolled her eyes again. "So what do you guys have so far?"

After a hesitation, Sam replied. "Four girls ravaged, hearts missing," he said. "Ages eighteen to twenty-six. One survivor because some guy happened to come by that had a gun. That was two nights ago. The last attack was a month ago. Sounds like werewolf. The bar is the best lead we have so far."

"Same here," Cat replied. "I was going to check out the crime scene first, then hit the bar. You in?"

Dean looked back to her. "Give us a minute," he said, an annoyed glare in his eyes.

"Take your time," Cat said with a shrug.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Chapter 3:

Dean walked away, down the street, Sam following. Once they figured they were out of earshot, they spoke. Cat, looking the other direction, closed her eyes and listened.

"What do you think?" Sam asked.

"What do I think? I think she's a hot loose cannon," Dean told him. Cat cocked an eyebrow. He thought she was hot? "I think that she is a hunter that thinks too much of herself. She shoved a _gun_ in my back, Sam. I don't care if she is the only hunter that actually believes the truth about what happened in Wyoming. Little miss kitty-Cat over there is trouble wrapped up in a neat little bow." Sam was silent. "What?"

"You just described yourself, Dean."

Cat smiled slightly.

"Smart-ass. Look, we can handle a werewolf," Dean told him. "I appreciated you not telling her everything we have because what we do not need is another hunter right on our tail messing us up."

"Are you going to be like this about every new hunter we run into?" Sam asked.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"First you didn't want to give Ruby a chance—."

"Ruby is a _demon_, Sam," Dean hissed. "I think I'm allowed a little suspicion."

"But Cat isn't Gordon."

There was a deafening silence between the two brothers. "Fine. You want her to tag along, that's fine. But I'm not babysitting her."

"I…really don't think she needs babysitting," Sam told his brother.

Dean turned and walked back over to Cat, Sam close on his heels.

Cat turned around. "So what's the verdict?"

"We'll…work together on this one," Dean said.

"If we're working together, I would appreciate you telling me everything you have on this case. I just rolled into town, just got started on it. If you guys have done legwork already, it could help us if I could take a look."

Dean glared at her. He seemed to be doing that a lot. Or maybe that was just how his face looked. Cat suppressed a smirk.

"Fine," he said. Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out some papers. "Most of the stuff is back at the hotel, but we're starting here and working our way back."

"To the first victim's location? Gathering info?" Cat asked, taking the papers. There were five newspaper articles and a map of the area.

"Yea," Dean replied.

Cat glanced over the articles, which she'd already read, before getting to the map. She looked at it for a few seconds before narrowing her eyes at it. Something appeared in her mind and she mentally drew a few lines on the map.

"I've…seen this before," she muttered.

"Seen what?" Dean asked.

"Either of you got a marker?" she asked quietly. Sam dug into his jacket and pulled out a Sharpie, handing it to her. She took it, taking the cap off, and handed the articles back to Dean before putting the map against the brick wall on her left. She then connected the dots.

"Dude, what're you drawing on the map?" Dean asked, anger tingeing his voice.

"Check this out," she murmured. "See the shape that makes?"

"Yea, so?"

"That is an unfinished symbol," Cat told him.

"And which unfinished symbol would that be?"

Cat finished the symbol, putting a dot at the other locations and looked to the boys for confirmation that they knew what it was.

"Dean…that's a thunderbolt," Sam said quietly. He let out a sharp breath through his nose. "Nicely done, Cat."

"Thunderbolt is when it's upright," Cat said, not at all condescending, just matter-of-fact. "It's known as a Doppelhaken when it's sideways. Since that's north, it's sideways. And these two places are where it's going to strike next. I'm assuming, since it is going from right to left, and since it made the vertical line first, then took the path through it, that tonight is right here." Cat pointed to one of the spots she'd circled.

"Ok, I'm not getting this, what this doppel…what's a thunderbolt?" Dean asked, looking back and forth between Sam and Cat.

"It's a symbol that's appeared on many city's coat of arms around the world," Sam told him. "There are alleged runic origins and it was used in the Third Reich by the Nazis before the swastika."

Cat nodded.

"And…what does all that have to do with werewolves?" Dean asked.

"It's also known as a Wolfsangel," Cat said. "It was a symbol for a werewolf first used by a man named Hermann Löns when he published a book called _Der Wehrwolf_."

Dean looked between Sam and Cat. "Great. Another Sam," he murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cat asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing," Sam interrupted. "Forget it."

"Well I really don't think we should be here," Cat told him.

"Why not? What's wrong with here?" Dean asked, surveying his surroundings as if he expected he'd missed something.

"She's right, Dean," Sam said. "There's nothing wrong with being here, it's just that we'd be better off elsewhere. It looks like the werewolf is following a pattern. If this is right, we know exactly where it's going to strike next, and it isn't here."

Dean looked at the map. "Corner of East 29th and Main. You're saying that's where it's going to strike. Tonight," Dean stated.

"It's a logical conclusion," Cat said. "I'll get my car. Meet you guys there." At that, she handed the map to Dean and took off jogging down the street.

"I don't like her," Cat heard Dean say.

"Why? Because she found something I missed?" Sam asked. That was the last of the conversation Cat heard before she turned the corner.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Chapter 4:

Cat pulled her '85 Mustang over to the curb, parking. After double-checking her gear, she got out of the car, cased the area, and walked over to the curb. She glanced up at the sign, which read East 29th and Main Street, and looked up and down the road before she leaned back against the brick wall of the apartment building, waiting for the boys.

Cat decided she liked Sam. Dean, not so much. He was too cocky, and cocky guys got into trouble. Sam was smart and could take a step back and look at a situation, unlike Dean who was more likely to shoot first, ask questions later. She'd heard as much about them, but had never experienced it first-hand.

_Little Miss Kitty-Cat,_ Cat thought with a snort. He was a real piece of work.

Cat suddenly caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She didn't move. A few seconds later, she looked toward it, but, as she'd expected, there was nothing there. She tucked her hands under her arms and put a nervous look on her face, beginning to pace back and forth. She slouched a bit too, darted her eyes back and forth a bit. If someone mistook her for a homeless kid or a druggie, they might target her. Which was good for her. Bad for them.

After a few more seconds passed, she heard footsteps. They were soft. Whoever was walking was trying to be quiet. There was only one set of footsteps, so she knew it wasn't Sam and Dean. She suddenly realized the footsteps were on the rooftop of an apartment. It was above her and coming closer. Whatever it was, it was going to try to take her by surprise.

Cat continued to pace nervously. Then she felt the presence right above her. She stopped pacing and forced herself not to look. _Get ready. Three…two…one…_ She heard a _whoosh_ and jumped into the street, falling into a roll and springing up with her gun in her hand. The wolf landed right where she'd been with a loud growl, showing teeth. She took one look at the werewolf, her brain computed what it was, and she emptied the magazine into it's chest, aiming directly for its heart.

The werewolf stumbled and fell, transforming back into the young man it was, and blood started to spread around him. A car came driving quickly down the road and Cat's eyes darted to it. She dashed around the corner and jumped for the fire escape, climbing up and sitting against the wall. She wanted to be nearby if it was the boys, but able to get out of there if it was a concerned citizen or cops who happened to be around.

The car skidded to a stop and two doors open. "Damn," she heard a male voice say. She recognized it as Dean's and swung herself over the bar of the fire escape, lowered herself, and dropped to the ground. The force stung for a few seconds, but not much, and she stood up, walking around the corner. Dean's car sat in the middle of the street, its headlights on the dead body.

"Took you guys long enough," she said, raising an eyebrow as she went over to them.

"We weren't parked closeby," Dean snapped.

"Well, lucky I was here," Cat said, looking from the naked dead body to the boys. "For us at least. Not for him. He came at me from above." Cat glanced up to the top of the three-story apartment building. "I got out of the way, emptied my Glock into his chest."

"Looks like," Sam replied, nodding.

Cat's half-smile suddenly turned sour, however, when she heard something from down the alley nearby. She cocked her head slightly, listening.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

Cat held up a hand, a signal to be quiet, before she looked to her left. She redrew her weapon, causing Dean and Sam to do the same. She made two military signals, for Hear and Enemy. Sam and Dean nodded, looking slightly frustrated that they couldn't hear anything, but then a sound echoed down the street, a sound that Cat knew they'd heard too.

The three turned toward footsteps coming down the street and saw two young men walking quickly toward them from the north. A few soft bangs from above told them that there were more on the fire escapes around them.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me," Dean murmured. "Since when do these things tag-team?"

The three put their backs together, creating a trianglular defense, and Dean was the first to raise his weapon, then Cat, then Sam.

"Hold it," Dean snapped.

"We're not here to hurt you," one of them replied.

"Then what's with the surrounding tactic?" Dean asked. "In case you didn't know, it tends to make people with guns a little itchy."

The young men stopped about ten feet from them on every side. "We were closing in on David." He glanced to the dead body to their left.

"Hate to break it to you, but you're a little late," Dean said.

"What did you want with him?" Cat repeated.

"We wanted to cure him."

"You're going to cure death?" Dean asked.

"No," he replied. "Lycanthropy."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Chapter 5:

Dean, Sam, and Cat all fell incredulously silent.

"What'd you just say?" Dean whispered.

"He's misleading," a second young man said. "We call it a cure, but we cannot really cure lycanthropism in the sense of the person becoming human again. But we put them in control of their inner wolf."

"So they don't kill people, you mean?" Dean asked.

"It's a suppresant. It supresses the werewolf instincts that their DNA triggers in the brain so that they have the ability to turn wolf, but can control themselves. Like us." At that, the young man shapeshifted into a werewolf.

Dean refocused his weapon on the man's heart. "You make one false move and I will be giving you a serious case of silver poisoning," he spat.

The man shifted back. "That won't be necessary," he replied. "We were hoping to get to David before hunters did, but it appears we were too late."

"And what happens a year after you give this suppressant?" Sam asked. "Two years? Is it permenant?"

"It is a permenant solution, yes," the man told him. "We have only been using it for a little under a year, but the first one that was injected with this type still has full control."

"So it's _not _permenant. It just works for at least a year," Dean interjected. "After that year, what, they revert back to killing machines?"

"Anyone who takes the suppressant is given another sample in case they feel it begin to wear off," the man told him. "It will suppress the DNA once more and they are to report immediately to the nearest supplier to get more. But a year is a long time."

The three hunters, guns still up and ready to fire, considered what he was saying. If it was possible to suppress the werewolf instinct, then they weren't dangerous. And obviously the man before them had his wolf under control because he'd just shifted to and from it. But just because they had it under control now, didn't mean they wouldn't later.

"Why hasn't this gotten out yet?" Cat asked, her eyes narrowed. "This is huge. If hunters knew about it they could replace silver bullets with this stuff when they go up against werewolves. If it's so great, why not let the news spread?"

"We plan on releasing the information in one month, twenty eight days, actually, when it officially hits the one-year mark," the man told her. "We want to be sure this works for at least a year. That was the decision."

"And while you keep that information to yourselves, people are dying," Sam said. "What gives you the right to control it like this?"

"That is not your concern," he snapped.

"Well I think it was David's concern," Sam told him.

The man hesitated. "We're waiting for the one year mark because that's how long it is supposed to last. And it is supposed to fade when or after it hits that mark. But we've had side effects when it fades."

Sam stared at him. "What kind of side effects?" he asked.

"The wolf DNA gets more severe. It becomes permanent."

"So whoever takes it gets one year of control and then becomes a raging lunatic again, this time forever, not just three nights a month?" Sam asked, shocked. "And how many people have you given this thing to?"

"Me and the seven other young men and women you see around you," he said.

"So in one month there are going to be _eight_ friggin' werewolves running around New York City munching on people twenty-four/seven?" Dean yelled. "What are you, nuts?"

"We adjusted the formula for the cure so that it doesn't increase the effect of the DNA when it fades," the young man said. "Now we just have to wait until the end of this year to make sure it works."

"What happens if it doesn't?" Sam exclaimed. "What happens if the eight of you turn into werewolves permanantly? How many people do you think will die before enough hunters come to New York City to take you out?"

"That's why we waited two months after they gave it to me to give it to themselves," the man told him. "I'll turn first. If it happens again, they kill me and kill themselves and there are others who will continue to try to find a cure."

"And if you're wrong?" Dean spoke up. "If the timing is off and all of you turn at the same time? Then what?"

"That won't happen," the man said firmly.

"How do you know?" Sam asked. "You're gambling with people's lives here! You don't have the right!"

"We have the right to live," the man barked at him.

"But not at the expense of innocent people's _lives_," Sam told him through gnashed teeth.

"This isn't your decision," the man told him.

"Unless I'm mistaken, we're the ones with the guns," Dean replied. "So it is our decision."

"You kill us, there will be others to keep trying the cure."

"But there will be eight less animals in New York City trying to kill people," Dean growled.

The three hunters and eight werewolves stood stock-still in a standoff, unsure of what to do, for another ten seconds. Honestly, Cat, Dean, and Sam's arms were getting tired from holding up the guns.

"So what's it going to be?" the man asked.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Chapter 6:

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, though he knew the werewolves could hear him. "What do you think? Madison or Lenore?"

Dean hesitated for only a second. "Madison," he quipped. And at, Dean and Sam opened fire.

Cat took her cue from them, since that was her decision too. She would have gone with whatever they decided because ten against one wasn't good odds, especially when eight of them were werewolves and two had guns. She wasn't sure what the code that they'd used was, but the bullets beginning to fly was enough for her.

Cat took out two of the werewolves on the fire escape before she spun to take on another that came at her from behind. Dean and Sam opened fire on two each. Then two others attacked, falling from the fire escape directly behind them.

Cat had just managed to get her gun around to point at it when it swiped it's hand across her neck. It didn't hit any veins, since she drew back, but it would definitely leave a scar, and the second strike, hitting the gun, sent it flying. Cat threw punches and kicks before it finally saw an opening and pounced. She hit the ground hard, barely able to hold it back as it snapped at her throat, but was able to get some leverage and throw it over her and into the wall. At that, she stood up and took a second gun from her jacket, shooting three bullets into its heart and then turning, ready to fire again, looking for more prey.

Sam had lost his gun almost immediately and fought with one for about ten seconds before he managed to get a silver knife out of his jeans. He sliced it at the werewolf and it dug deep into its chest, but missed its heart. Sam was able to stumble away and grab his gun, then pump four bullets into the werewolf.

Dean had gotten struck from behind and rolled with it, instantly getting back up, but the werewolf was quickly there, grabbing the gun from Dean's hands and slashing its vicious nails across his chest. Dean cried out as he was propelled to the left and into the brick wall, then fell to the ground. The werewolf leapt at him, but landed where Dean had been, not where he was. Dean then pulled a silver knife of his own from his jacket and, when the werewolf leapt again, the blade met its heart.

Dean shoved the werewolf off of him, standing up, but stumbled. "Sammy," he groaned.

"Dean!" Sam cried. He ran over to him, holding him up, as Cat took a few quick steps over as well. She touched her neck, which was bleeding, but she knew it wasn't bad.

"Okay. I'm fine," Dean rasped, leaning over as he clutched his chest. "Just a few scratches."

It was at that moment that they heard sirens quickly approaching.

"Oh perfect," Dean groaned.

"I'm surprised we had this long," Cat told him. "Let's take your car. It's closer."

"Great, fresh blood on the upholstrey," Dean replied, giving the keys to sam and slightly leaning against Cat as Sam ran over to the car and got inside, turning on the engine.

Cat got to the car and put Dean in the back. When he was completely inside, she quickly closed the door and jumped into the passenger's seat, slamming the door shut. Sam didn't wait for them to put on their seatbelts before she hit the gas.

The car swerved around the corner, taking off down the empty street, and Dean flew backwards, hitting his head on the car. "Ow," he groaned.

"Sorry, have to get us out of here," was Sam's reply as Cat put on his seatbelt.

"Next time, I drive," Dean told her as he put his legs up, knees bent, on the seat. He put his left hand on the seat in front of him as well, so he wouldn't fly forward, putting some pressure on his chest with his other hand.

"Sure, when you aren't bleeding from the chest, the next time we take down eight werewolves, you can drive," Sam replied.

They sped down the road and, once they turned onto the main street, slowed down. What they didn't need was to be noticed. The side streets were different, there was barely anyone around, but a main street and a fast car were a recipe for a car accident.

The three hunters drove for about ten minutes in silence, except for one time when Sam asked if Dean was okay and he replied with, "Peachy," before he got to their motel. Sam and Cat helped Dean inside, his shirt soaked with blood by this time, and lay him down on the bed.

"Oh the maids are gonna love this," Dean moaned as he started to drip blood on the sheets.

"I got first aid, you get towels," Sam said, walking over to her bag. Cat went quickly into the bathroom, grabbing all the towels they'd been given, soaking one in water, and brought them back to the bed. She put a folded towel on the wounds, soaking up the blood, as Sam came over with the kit.

"You feel woozy?" Sam asked.

"She's not _that_ hot," Dean replied.

"Dean," Sam said.

"A little bit," Dean admitted.

"Let's get you fixed up," he muttered, opening the kit.

"I die, Sammy, you take care of my baby, okay?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad."

"You have a _kid_?" Cat asked, shocked.

Sam sighed. "He has a car."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Chapter 7:

A while later, after Dean had taken some pain meds and was conked out on the bed, Sam left his sheathed knife under his pillow for him. Then, once Cat and Sam had cleaned themselves up, they went to get her car, hoping that the crime scene didn't extend to it. It was quiet for a few minutes before Sam spoke up.

"Thanks for the help," he said. "Dean's not going to say it, so I figured I should."

Cat cracked a smile. "You're welcome." She thought for a second. "He's not that into humility, is he?"

"Not so much, no," Sam replied. "Mostly it's witty comebacks and lame pick-up lines."

Cat nodded. "I could tell."

"He's a good person, though," Sam said softly.

Cat glanced over at him. "I could tell that too." She paused. "So what was that code you used before?"

"What code?" Sam asked. Then he remembered. "Oh yea. It wasn't really a code. It was more of a…an understanding. You have enough history with someone, you can just make it up as you go along, you know?"

"Yea, I know what you mean," Cat replied. "There's someone I usually work with, Mitch. He's over in Illinois working on a haunting though. I didn't mean to pry, it's just…I was wondering who Madison and Lenore were."

Sam was silent for a few seconds, shifting his grip on the wheel. "Lenore was a vampire and…Madison was a werewolf," he said quietly. "Lenore and the rest of her nest weren't feeding on humans. They survived on animal blood."

"Really?" Cat asked, her gaze intent. "I'd never heard of something like that."

"Me either," Sam replied. "Until they kidnapped me and told me about it. And then let me go without a scratch."

"That's intense," Cat murmured. "So…you left them alone?"

"Not exactly. That's where Gordon Walker came into the picture. He was intent on killing every last vampire, even if they weren't hurting humans. So he got to Lenore before we did, tied her up, and tortured her with dead man's blood to get her to tell him where the rest of her nest was so he could kill them too. Oh, and the best part? I could tell he enjoyed it."

"Jesus," Cat whispered. "Sick bastard."

"Yea. We didn't really like him after that," Sam said. Cat snorted. "And that was before he tried to kill me."

"Yea, I heard something about that," she replied. "He was one psycho hunter. So Lenore was code for, 'Let's let them go.' Who was Madison?"

Sam swallowed, looking straight out the windshield. "Madison…was a werewolf." He swallowed again, clenching the wheel tighter.

"Sam? You okay?" Cat asked quietly.

"Yea, it's just…."

"I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it," Cat told him. "I tend to ask too many questions. Personality flaw. People who know me just ignore me."

Sam nodded. "It's just…a long story."

Cat smiled grimly. "We all got some of those," she muttered.

"Sometimes you have to do things you aren't sure about. And sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do," Sam whispered, half to himself.

Cat stared out the window, swallowing. "I hear you."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Chapter 8:

Dean opened his eyes, blinking the sleep away, and saw the sun peeking in through the curtains of the motel room. For a few seconds he wasn't sure where they were. It happened a lot, since they were always moving around. Took him a few seconds to get oriented. After he slid his hand under his pillow to feel the comfort his knife, he looked around. When he tried to sit up, the pain in his chest reminded him of the night before.

_Werewolf. Claws. Pain. Blood. Just another day at the office._

Dean slowly moved his legs off of the bed, sitting up. He almost stepped on Sam, who was on the floor, asleep, his head on a folded-up towel. Cat sat dozing in a loveseat in the corner, her legs over one armrest and leaning backwards and to her right against the back of the seat. _Sam, always the gentleman, gave the chair to the lady. _He glanced at the clock, which read 11:34 AM. He figured they'd earned a little sleep so, carefully stepping around Sam, he made his way to the toilet.

After he got dressed and got himself a soda from the machine outside, he took Sam's laptop and took a seat at the desk. He managed to catch a stray signal from a router and connected to the internet. He definitely wanted to try to find some information about this 'cure' and who the werewolves were giving it to. If there was anything about anything on the internet, he or Sam would find it. Dean figured he may as well get a head start.

About an hour later, caught up in the research, Dean slightly jumped when Sam yawned and sat up. "Dean?" he murmured.

"Morning sunshine," Dean replied.

"How you doing?" Sam asked, standing up.

"Good, good. I'm not finding much though." Dean turned the laptop to his left as Sam walked over.

Cat shifted in her seat, blinked a few times, and looked around the room, from where Sam had been sleeping to the bed to the brothers at the computer. "What's going on?" she asked, stretching.

"I've been doing some poking around, trying to find anything that might resemble what those werewolves were describing last night," Dean told them. "I hit on a few things, but nothing really promising."

Cat stood up and walked over to the other side of Dean's chair, looking at the computer screen.

"There's plenty of lore on how to 'cure' a werewolf. There's jumping in water, rolling in dew, eating flowers, killing the werewolf that turned you, which we know doesn't work, killing nine of the werewolves that the werewolf turns, and of course, there's death. Though that's not much of a…cure…. Anyway, aside from Ginger Snaps and Van Helsing, I'm not really finding anything you can _inject_ the werewolf with to suppress it. That's another thing. Suppressing is different than curing. Maybe Sam'll have more luck than me."

"You call Bobby?" Sam asked.

"I was thinking about that. Just wanted to see if there was anything online that I could find first," Dean replied. "I'll ring him." He took out his cell, dialing Bobby's number. After a few seconds, he picked up. "Hey, Bobby, it's Dean. Good, you…? Good. Listen, we ran into a pack of werewolves last night…. Yea, that's what I said. They had their wolf under control though. They'd been injected with something, some kind of suppressent…No, he shifted and changed back…. Catch is, at the end of the year, tests show that they'll wolf out permenantly. They were willing to take that chance. We weren't. So you ever hear about something like that…?"

Dean was silent. "Uh huh…." He paused. "Yea." Another pause. "Okay, thanks Bobby." Dean hung up and turned to Cat and Sam. "He said he'd look into it, reach out to some contacts, but he hasn't heard anything about this 'cure'."

"I made a few calls last night to some people, but told them I'll call back to check in cause I needed the sleep, unless there was some urgent info," Cat told them, taking out her cell. She dialed a phone number as Dean walked over to the bedside table and took a long drink of the soda he'd gotten.

"Yea," Cat said. "It's me. You have anything for me?"

Cat called two more people before she called her last contact. "You have something?" she asked, surprised. The boys looked over to her expectantly. She paused, listening. "Okay…. Yea, that makes sense." She paused again. "Okay…. Yea…. Well that's plenty, thanks. I owe you." Cat smiled at something the other person said before she hung up.

"So what's the deal?" Dean asked.

"Well, Issac just told me that rumors have been spreading that someone succeeded in making a werewolf cure over in upstate New York," she said, sitting down on the bed. "It was said to be a fluke to just about everyone, but Issac managed to get a call in to someone who apparently was in on it. I'm sketchy on the details, but they're working with an enzyme that can somehow keep the wolf DNA from influencing the human part of the body, instinctual-wise."

"And they're making New York City it's own personal cage of lab rats?" Dean asked. "How's that work?"

"Turns out that it wasn't supposed to go out yet. They'd only been testing it on werewolves in a lab, secure settings. Somehow, one of the employees got their hands on some and took it upon themselves to bring it to some werewolves, bring them all together, and see what happens."

"So we were right," Sam said. "They probably would have changed permenantly."

Cat nodded. "Yea. Lab tests prove that this thing isn't supposed to hit the streets yet."

"Would there be any other lab tests that we should know about?" Dean asked. "I mean, vampires being turned back to normal or a vaccine so people can't get posessed?"

"I think we're a ways off from that, if ever," Cat replied. "Science can only do so much. I think they're stretching the limits with this as it is."

"Well, sounds to me they better get a better screening process for their employees over at mad scientist central," Dean said, slapping his hands on his thighs before standing up.

"Yea. Well, I'm out of here," Cat said, scooping up her backpack. "If you guys ever need some backup, feel free to call. You have my number."

"Hey we could have taken them all if we needed to," Dean objected.

Cat nodded. "Fine. Then call me if you ever need some trouble tied up in a neat little bow." At that, she left, closing the door behind herself and smiling.


End file.
